it is cheap philosophy to moralise on the importance of events led up to by the merest trifles; but the subject comes so frequently before us as to furnish innumerable pegs whereon the week-day preacher may hang up his little garland of reflections, his little wreath of homely truisms. if ned waldron had not been crossing into the park at the exact moment when the shortsighted godalming banker was knocked down by the hansom at the corner, he would have still been enjoying eighty pounds a-year as a temporary extra-clerk at whitehall, instead of groaning over the villanous extortion of the malt-tax, as a landed proprietor of some thousands of inherited acres. if dr. weston's red-lamp over the surgery-door had been blown out when the servant rushed off for medical advice for master percy buckmaster's ear-ache, the eminent apothecary would never have had the chance of which he so skilfully availed himself--of paying dutiful attention to mrs. buckmaster, and finally stepping into the shoes of her late husband, the wealthy indian indigo-planter.
if geoffrey ludlow, dashing impetuously onward in his career, had not heard that long low heart-breaking moan, he might have gone on leading his easy, shiftless, drifting life, with no break greater than the excitement consequent on the sale of a picture or the accomplishment of a resolution. but he _did_ hear it, and, rare thing in him, acting at once on his first impulse, he dropped on his knees just in time to catch the fainting form in his outstretched arms. that same instant he would have shrunk back if he could; but it was too late; that same instant there came across him a horrible feeling of the ludicrousness of his position: there at midnight in a london thoroughfare holding in his arms--what! a drunken tramp, perhaps; a vagrant well known to the mendicity society; a gin-sodden streetwalker, who might requite his good samaritanism with a leer and a laugh, or an oath and a blow. and yet the groan seemed to come from the lowest depths of a wrung and suffering heart; and the appearance--no, there could be no mistake about that. that thin, almost emaciated, figure; those pinched features; drawn, haggard, colourless cheeks; that brow, half hidden by the thick, damp, matted hair, yet in its deep lines and indentations revealing the bitter workings of the mind; the small thin bony hands now hanging flaccid and motionless--all these, if there were anything real in this life, were outward semblances such as mere imposters could not have brought forward in the way of trade.
not one of them was lost on geoffrey ludlow, who, leaning over the prostrate figure, narrowly scanned its every feature, bent his face towards the mouth, placed his hands on the heart, and then, thoroughly alarmed, looked round and called for aid. perhaps his excitement had something to do with it, but geoff's voice fell flat and limp on the thick damp air, and there was no response, though he shouted again and again. but presently the door whence he had issued opened widely, and in the midst of a gush of tobacco smoke a man came out, humming a song, twirling a stick, and striding down the street. again geoffrey ludlow shouted, and this time with success, for the newcomer stopped suddenly, took his pipe from his mouth, and turning hist-doo head towards the spot whence the voice proceeded, he called out, simply but earnestly, "hallo there! what's the row?"
ludlow recognised the speaker at once. it was charley potts, and geoffrey hailed him by name.
"all right!" said charley in return. "you've picked up my name fast enough, my pippin; but that don't go far. better known than trusted is your obedient servant, c. p. hallo, geoff, old man, is it you? why, what the deuce have you got there? an 'omeless poor, that won't move on, or a----- by george, geoff, this is a bad case!" he had leant over the girl's prostrate body, and had rapidly felt her pulse and listened at her heart. "this woman's dying of inanition and prostration. i know it, for i was in the red-bottle and plaster-of-paris-horse line before i went in for art. she must be looked to at once, or she'll slip off the hooks while we're standing by her. you hold on here, old man, while i run back and fetch the brandy out of dabb's room; i know where he keeps it. chafe her hands, will you, geoff? i shan't be a second."
charley potts rushed off, and left geoffrey still kneeling by the girl's side. in obedience to his friend's instructions, he began mechanically to chafe her thin worn hands; but as he rubbed his own over them to and fro, to and fro, he peered into her face, and wondered dreamily what kind of eyes were hidden behind the drooped lids, and what was the colour of the hair hanging in dank thick masses over the pallid brow. even now there began to spring in his mind a feeling of wonder not unmixed with alarm, as to what would be thought of him, were he discovered in his then position; whether his motives would be rightly construed; whether he were not acting somewhat indiscreetly in so far committing himself: for geoffrey ludlow had been brought up in the strict school of dire respectability, where a lively terror of rendering yourself liable to mrs. grundy's remarks is amongst the doctrines most religiously inculcated. but a glance at the form before him gave him fresh assurance; and when charley potts returned he found his friend rubbing away with all his energy.
"here it is," said charley; "dabb's particular. i know it's first-rate, for dabb only keeps it medicinally, taking sir felix booth bart. as his ordinary tipple. i know this water-of-life-of-cognac of old, sir, and always have internal qualms of conscience when i go to see dabb, which will not be allayed until i have had what caniche calls a suspicion. hold her head for a second, geoff, while i put the flask to her mouth. there! once more, geoff. ah! i thought so. her pulse is moving now, old fellow, and she'll rouse in a bit; but it was very nearly a case of walker."
"look at her eyes--they're unclosing."
"not much wonder in that, is there, my boy? though it is odd, perhaps. a glass of brandy has made many people shut their eyes before now; but as to opening them--hallo! steady there!"
he said this as the girl, her eyes glaring straight before her, attempted to raise herself into an erect position, but after a faint struggle dropped back, exclaiming feebly:
"i cannot, i cannot."
"of course you can't, my dear," said charley potts, not unkindly; "of course you can't. you musn't think of attempting it either. i say, geoff,"--(this was said in a lower tone)--"look out for the policeman when he comes round, and give him a hail. our young friend here must be looked after at once, and he'd better take her in a cab to the workhouse."
as he said the last words, geoffrey ludlow felt the girl's hand which he held thrill between his, and, bending down, thought he saw her lips move.
"what's the matter?" said charley potts.
"it's very strange," replied geoffrey; "i could swear i heard her say 'not there!' and yet--"
"likely enough been there before, and knows the treatment. however, we must get her off at once, or she'll go to grief; so let us--"
"look here, charley: i don't like the notion of this woman's going to a workhouse, specially as she seems to--object, eh? couldn't we--isn't there any one where we could--where she could lodge for a night or two, until--the doctor, you know--one might see? confound it all, charley, you know i never can explain exactly; can't you help me, eh?"
"what a stammering old idiot it is!" said charley potts, laughing. "yes, i see what you mean--there's flexor's wife lives close by, in little flotsam street--keeps a lodging-house. if she's not full, this young party can go in there. she's all right now so far as stepping it is concerned, but she'll want a deal of looking after yet. o, by jove! i left rollit in at the titians, the army-doctor, you know, who sketches so well. let's get her into flexor's, and i'll fetch rollit to look at her. easy now! up!"
they raised her to her feet, and half-supported, half-carried her round the church and across the broad road, and down a little bystreet on the other side. there charley potts stopped at a door, and knocking at it, was soon confronted by a buxom middle-aged woman, who started with surprise at seeing the group.
"lor, mr. potts! what can have brought you 'ere, sir? flexor's not come in, sir, yet--at them nasty titiums, he is, and joy go with him. if you're wanting him, sir, you'd better--"
"no, mrs. flexor, we don't want your husband just now. here's mr. ludlow, who--"
"lord, and so it is! but seeing nothing but the nape of your neck, sir, i did not recognise--"
"all right, mrs. flexor," said geoffrey; "we want to know if your house is full. if not, here is a poor woman for whom we--at least mr. potts--and i myself, for the matter of that--"
"stuttering again, geoff! what stuff! here, mrs. flexor, we want a room for this young woman to sleep in; and just help us in with her at once into your parlour, will you? and let us put her down there while i run round for the doctor."
it is probable that mrs. flexor might have raised objections to this proposition; but charley potts was a favourite with her, and geoffrey ludlow was a certain source of income to her husband; so she stepped back while the men caught up their burden, who all this time had been resting, half-fainting, on geoffrey's shoulder, and carried her into the parlour. here they placed her in a big, frayed, ragged easy-chair, with all its cushion-stuffing gone, and palpable bits of shaggy wool peering through its arms and back; and after dragging this in front of the expiring fire, and bidding mrs. flexor at once prepare some hot gruel, charley potts rushed away to catch dr. rollit.
and now geoffrey ludlow, left to himself once more (for the girl was lying back in the chair, still with unclosing eyes, and had apparently relapsed into a state of stupor), began to turn the events of the past hour in his mind, and to wonder very much at the position in which he found himself. here he was in a room in a house which he had never before entered, shut up with a girl of whose name or condition he was as yet entirely ignorant, of whose very existence he had only just known; he, who had always shirked anything which afforded the smallest chance of adventure, was actually taking part in a romance. and yet--nonsense! here was a starving wanderer, whom he and his friend had rescued from the street; an ordinary every-day case, familiar in a thousand phases to the relieving-officers and the poor-law guardians, who, after her certain allowance of warmth, and food, and physic, would start off to go--no matter where, and do--no matter what. and yet he certainly had not been deceived in thinking of her faint protest when charley proposed to send her to the workhouse. she had spoken then; and though the words were so few and the tone so low, there was something in the latter which suggested education and refinement. her hands too, her poor thin hands, were long and well-shaped, with tapering fingers and filbert-nails, and bore no traces of hard work: and her face--ah, he should be better able to see her face now.
he turned, and taking the flaring candle from the table, held it above her head. her eyes were still closed; but as he moved, they opened wide, and fixed themselves on him. such large, deep-violet eyes, with long sweeping lashes! such a long, solemn, stedfast gaze, in which his own eyes were caught fast, and remained motionless. then on to his hand, leaning on the arm of the chair, came the cold clammy pressure of feeble fingers; and in his ear, bent and listening, as he saw a fluttering motion of her lips, murmured very feebly the words, "bless you!--saved me!" twice repeated. as her breath fanned his cheek, geoffrey ludlow's heart beat fast and audibly, his hand shook beneath the light touch of the lithe fingers; but the next instant the eyelids dropped, the touch relaxed, and a tremulousness seized on the ashy lips. geoffrey glanced at her for an instant, and was rushing in alarm to the door, when it opened, and charley potts entered, followed by a tall grave man, in a long black beard, whom potts introduced as dr. rollit.
"you're just in time," said geoffrey; "i was just going to call for help. she--"
"pardon me, please," said the doctor, calmly pushing him on one side. "permit me to--ah!" he continued, after a glance--"i must trouble you to leave the room, potts, please, and take your friend with you. and just send the woman of the house to me, will you? there is a woman, i suppose?"
"o yes, there is a woman, of course.--here, mrs. flexor, just step up, will you?--now, geoff, what are you staring at, man? do you think the doctor's going to eat the girl? come on old fellow; we'll sit on the kitchen-stairs, and catch blackbeetles to pass the time. come on!"
geoff roused himself at his friend's touch, and went with him, but in a dreamy sullen manner. when they got into the passage, he remained with outstretched ear, listening eagerly; and when charley spoke, he savagely bade him hold his tongue. mr. potts was so utterly astonished at this conduct, that he continued staring and motionless, and merely gave vent to his feelings in one short low whistle. when the door was opened, geoffrey ludlow strode down the passage at once, and confronting the doctor, asked him what news. dr. rollit looked his questioner steadily in the eyes for a moment; and when he spoke his tone was softer, his manner less abrupt than before. "there is no special danger, mr. ludlow," said he; "though the girl has had a narrow escape. she has been fighting with cold and want of proper nourishment for days, so far as i can tell."
"did she say so?"
"she said nothing; she has not spoken a word." dr. rollit did not fail to notice that here geoffrey ludlow gave a sigh of relief. "i but judge from her appearance and symptoms. i have told this good person what to do; and i will look round early in the morning. i live close by. now, goodnight."
"you are sure as to the absence of danger?"
"certain."
"goodnight; a thousand thanks!--mrs. flexor, mind that your patient has every thing wanted, and that i settle with you.--now, charley, come; what are you waiting for?"
"eh?" said charley. "well, i thought that, after this little excitement, perhaps a glass out of that black bottle which i know mrs. flexor keeps on the second shelf in the right-hand cupboard--"
"get along with you, mr. potts!" said mrs. flexor, grinning.
"you know you do mrs. f.--a glass of that might cheer and not inebriate.--what do you say, geoff?"
"i say no! you've had quite enough; and all mrs. flexor's attention is required elsewhere.--goodnight, mrs. flexor; and"--by this time they were in the street--"goodnight, charley."
mr. potts, engaged in extracting a short-pipe from the breast-pocket of his pea-jacket, looked up with an abstracted air, and said, "i beg your pardon."
"goodnight, charley."
"oh, certainly, if you wish it. goodnight, geoffrey ludlow, esquire; and permit me to add, hey no nonny! not a very lucid remark, perhaps, but one which exactly illustrates my state of mind." and charley potts filled his pipe, lit it, and remained leaning against the wall, and smoking with much deliberation until his friend was out of sight.
geoffrey ludlow strode down the street, the pavement ringing under his firm tread, his head erect, his step elastic, his whole bearing sensibly different even to himself. as he swung along he tried to examine himself as to what was the cause of his sudden light-heartedness; and at first he ascribed it to the sale of his picture, and to the warm promises of support he had received at the hands of mr. stompff. but these, though a few hours since they had really afforded him the greatest delight, now paled before the transient glance of two deep-violet eyes, and the scarcely-heard murmur of a feeble voice. "'bless you!--saved me!' that's what she said!" exclaimed geoff, halting for a second and reflecting. "and then the touch of her hand, and the--ah! charley was right! hey no nonny is the only language for such an ass as i'm making of myself." so home through the quiet streets, and into his studio, thinking he would smoke one quiet pipe before turning in. there, restlessness, inability to settle to any thing, mad desire to sketch a certain face with large eyes, a certain fragile helpless figure, now prostrate, now half-reclining on a bit of manly shoulder; a carrying-out of this desire with a bit of crayon on the studio-wall, several attempts, constant failure, and consequent disgust. a feeling that ought to have been pleasure, and yet had a strong tinge of pain at his heart, and a constant ringing of one phrase, "'bless you!--saved me!" in his ears. so to bed; where he dreamt he saw his name, geoffrey ludlow, in big black letters at the bottom of a gold frame, the picture in which was keat's "lamia;" and lo! the lamia had the deep-violet eyes of the wanderer in the streets.
